


Take Me to Church

by Imalwaysdown



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Christianity, Emotional Hurt, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, Homosexuality, Hurt No Comfort, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Mutual Pining, Promises, Sad Ending, Song: Take Me To Church (Hozier), Suicide, You might cry, conversion therapy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-08
Updated: 2021-01-08
Packaged: 2021-03-18 17:40:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28621932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Imalwaysdown/pseuds/Imalwaysdown
Summary: "I love you, George," Clay whispers, kissing him again, "I love you so much."George smiles, "I know."And it doesn't hurt, it doesn't sting like he thinks it would. He knows George means something more than what he said, he knows George loves him just as much. George isn't just as brave as him, and he knows he still feels like the worst sinner.
Relationships: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 28
Kudos: 143





	Take Me to Church

**Author's Note:**

> This is not meant to offend anyone or to be a fight against religion. It is meant to show how it is to be unsupported. I have been through things like that, so please if you are Christian, do not feel like what you believe is invalid.

"Disgusting," A woman spits. Her twelve year old son who is sitting on the floor in front of her looks up at her.

"What?" He asks.

"They made it legal for two women or two men to get married, Clay, that is against the Bible. They're too dense to realize how disgusting they are."

"Oh," Was all Clay says.

"If you end up like that, Clay, I will not support that. I do not support sinners." 

Clay nods, knowing she would say that, it happened many times before. He wasn't even sure homosexuality existed before she brought up how bad it was a while ago.

He doesn't know what to think about it, so he does what he does naturally, and pushed the thought away. 

...

"Clay," Clay's mom scolds, swatting her hand at his fidgeting one, "sit still."

He sighs and stops fidgeting, trying to focus his attention on the pastor going on about some verses in a book in the bible. Mathew, if he could remember correctly.

It was no use, the pastor's voice was monotone, boring Clay out of his mind. 

Clay frowns, remembering that day he'd have to help clean the church after they would all eat lunch together, and Clay knew it would not be fun considering the pastors kids who always try to make the biggest messes. 

The pastor's son, sitting in the far corner of the pew behind him, catches his eye as he looks back at him, smiling widely.

He remembers last Wednesday, getting to make hot chocolate before their candlelight service. 

Then he remembers that his mom separated them for the reason of "You are getting to close to that boy, Clay."

They had subtly scooted closer. 

It was something normal, sitting together. They'd both been hanging out together at church since middle school, and both had been going to that church since they were toddlers. 

Once the church service is done, the small church floods into the dining room, starting to stand in a moderately long line for getting food.

"Are you staying after church?" Someone asks from behind him.

He looks over and George shifts under his gaze, "Yeah, why?"

"Just wondering. I'm cleaning after lunch and I was wondering if you were too." 

After the long wait for just a little bit of leftover food, the sit together at the white table, as much from their parents as possible.

"You think they care about me?" George asks once after biting into a lukewarm dinner roll.

Clay frowns, narrowing his eyes in confusion. "What do you mean, George?"

"I mean, if I didn't turn out the way I was supposed to, do you think they still love me?"

Clay uncomfortably wobbles around in his seat, not knowing exactly how to answer George's question. "Why do you say that?"

George lowers his voice, playing with the white table cloth and ripping it with his fingernails. "Because, I don't think they will."

"Of course they will! They're your parents, they are supposed to love you no matter what. That is what the Bible says, doesn't it?"

A sigh slips from George's mouth and he shrugs, looking away from Clay.

Then they're alone in the dining room, cleaning up the crumbs from the table left from the church members. Their parents are in the church auditorium, catching up on everything they can.

George laughs cutely at a joke Clay makes, and he swears his heart beats a little faster. Their hands brush against each other a couple times too, sending electricity through Clay's body. 

"All done, what should we do until our parents finish talking?" Clay asks while he throws away a disgustingly brown wipe into the trash can.

"Oh, we should just stay here and talk, that okay with you?" George's question comes out nervously, but Clay just nods and response and sits down on one of the chairs.

"I wish we could hang out outside of church, you know?" Clay says, "It would be fun to go to each other's houses, I could show you my cat." 

George giggles, "My parents won't allow it. They act like we are children, we are seventeen. Apparently so do you, seeing as you'd only invite me to show me your cat."

"I can do more than that," Clay winks, jokingly raising his eyebrows to earn a deep blush and another giggle in response.

"Gross!"

...

They get to hang out the first time at Clay's, the only reason being George's parent were going to a small trip together for two days. George didn't go to their grandmothers with the rest of his siblings, and had begged to be able to stay the night at Clays.

And for once, they let him.

"I haven't been to many sleepovers," George says as they walk into in Clay's house. 

"A sleepover? What are we seven year old girls?"

George rolls his eyes, smiling. 

Clay can admit his smile was the best thing in the world. 

"I don't know what else to call it! Now didn't you say you would show me patches?"

Coincidentally, Patches comes strolling in a few moments later, then being picked up by George and pet lovingly.

Clay stated, watching George smile down at the Cat and kiss her head. 

"She's adorable," George says, looking back up at Clay and meeting his eyes. 

Clay laughs awkwardly, taking Patches into his hands and petting her as well, "She is, but you are too."

It slips out, rolls of the tongue in sweet honey. 

George goes red, making Clays heart skip a beat when he speaks, "Th- thank you I-Uh, but you're cuter."

Clay feels the flutters in his stomach, butterflies burning in the acid that came from they thought that said "but this is wrong"

He doesn't say anything else.

...

It's the last night George is staying, and there cuddled together watching a movie.

Clay wonders how it happened, they got closer and closer until he couldn't take it anymore and pushed his chest against George's back and draped his hand across his waist. 

It was now or never.

He need to get what he's been thinking out.

Clay knows George will take it well, yet it's been sitting at the back of his head that he wouldn't accept his thought process since the day he knew something was up.

"George?"

"Yeah?" His sleepy voice sends butterflies to burn in the acid again.

"Ive been thinking a lot, about how God loves me no matter what, about how some things in the Bible don't apply to the way we live since they are translated wrong," Clay begins, "Is it wrong for someone to like the same gender still?"

"Why are you asking me this? I didn't even know the Bible was mistranslated," George says with something that sounds like relief at hearing that information from Clay. 

"I don't know. I mean," Clay bites his lip and he can feel that the butterflies are almost gone, "I don't like boys, but I know guys who do and everyone in this town would hate them, but I don't because I think it's okay."

"I don't know what to think about it, to be honest. I think about it a lot too," George suggests, and the acid fills his stomach more.

"Oh okay," Clay mutters, ending the conversation.

...

It is a spring night, they are outside a restaurant after eat together with family.

Clay picks up a purple flower that lied in the bushes near the front door. It just calls George's name, is what he thinks.

He thinks it may be a lilac. 

He hands it to George, "Here."

"A flower? Clay you are so weird," George smiles, smelling it, "I can't even tell what color it is."

"It's purple. A lilac," Clay says, "Put it in your hair." 

Clay laughs as he tries putting it in the short brown hair that has barely grown out from its usual cut. 

They sit together on the concrete, crossing their legs that touched together. 

"It won't even go into my hair, it's too short, I'll just hold it."

"Fine, I just thought you'd look cute," Clay blurts, it spews out along with the acid and his stomach fills with butterflies again when George shakes his head and smiles.

"Why do you keep calling me that?" He asks, voice flushed and soft. 

"It's true," Clay says,"I just think you are pretty."

"I think you're beautiful, Clay, is that okay?" George comes back with something that makes the butterflies go crazy.

"Yeah," Clay nods, "That's perfect."

George's face is close to his now, breath fanning his lips.

"I want to kiss you, is that okay too?" Clay asks it this time.

George hesitates, "Yes."

Their lips meet, softly colliding between each other. Clay swears he could vomit the butterflies by now with how many there are in his stomach. 

They left soon after that, not knowing what to think besides the fact they had done that. Clay still thinks of George's words before they left.

"My favorite flower is a lilac now, because of you."

...

Clay and George are alone again in the dining room, but not after having food. It's a late Wednesday and Clay insisted on being in there because one of the other kids being an asshole. 

"Your mom know you're a fag?" The guy had asked, getting a few laughs from the others and a look from Clay and George.

"I'm not anything she doesn't know, now, mind your own business," Clay bit back. 

Now George is watching as Clay has tears running down his face, "I don't know why that bothered me, people at school call me that word all the time."

Without even saying it, 'that word' alone spills out of his mouth in unrelenting grimace.

"It's okay, Clay. It's just a stupid guy who's trying to get a kick out of you," George assures, placing his hand on his shoulder and sitting very closely next to him, "I don't think your mom cares, and if you are that way and she hates you then she isn't a real Christian, that's all I have to say."

"Same applies to you."

"What?"

"I know you think they'd hate you, that homosexuality is against the Bible and God is going to send you to hell for it. I know you think that," Clay says, tone soft and reassuring, yet George seems to take it differently. 

"You don't know what I think, and who said I was even that way?" George spits out his words.

"Well— I kind of just assumed since-"

"Stop jumping to conclusions, I'm not you, I'm not a-" Venom wraps itself around his tongue, infecting Clays thoughts and trapping in George's mouth when he snaps it closed.

Clay's heart plummets, hurt making its way there, "Wow, Go ahead and call me that George. Tell me what I am since you can't admit it yourself."

George bites his lip, getting up and uttering nothing but an apology and leaving the room.

Acid fills Clay's stomach again. It isn't pleasant.  
...

"Isn't that your little boyfriend?" Nick asks once, pointing across the park at George playing with his siblings. 

Clay thinks for a minute, thinks about calling George that even though they have been closer than ever and even kissed. 

He wanted to be, but the mere idea of having a boyfriend made him feel like a sinner. He felt a little sick at that. 

His mother thought him not to be that type of sinner, she always had. He hated it, but he still had the smallest of the idea that it was still wrong. 

"No," Clay finally answers.

...

George is forgiven for what he did, now, because that's what Christians do, and Clay felt like he deserved to be forgiven.

But the acid from that night still remained. 

He's been forgiven, because that's what a true Christian does.

But is he a true Christian? 

A true Christian wouldn't be kissing his best friend right now, they wouldn't be gripping his sides as he kissed his neck. They were on a park bench behind a tree, one that filled their senses with the floral smell that it gave off. 

It wasn't lustful, no, but it still wasn't Christian.

It is gay, and this time Clay doesn't so much as hate the word, but he knows a true Christian wouldn't be doing this. 

Was it a sin, though? He doesn’t know. 

It feels like heaven. 

"I love you, George," Clay whispers, kissing him again, "I love you so much."

George smiles, "I know."

And it doesn't hurt, it doesn't sting like he thinks it would. He knows George means something more than what he said, he knows George loves him just as much. George isn't just as brave as him, and he knows he still feels like the worst sinner. 

They share sweet grins and pull away, and the bench creeks beneath them. 

A lilac sits on George's lap, it was picked again after they ate at the same restaurant.

...

The acid is back, and Clay doesn't know why. It settles there, boiling almost, shooting up to sit in his throat, too.

He figures out why when George leads him to the bathroom.

"They hate me! They hate me Clay!" George cried, hugging onto tight Clay as if the life would slip out of him if he didn't do it any tighter.

"Calm down, breathe and take a second to tell me what happened," Clay says, his soft tone and expression showing while George still clutches onto his clothing.

Once he calms down, he stammers out an explanation, "I—My parents saw us kissing yesterday and they, they told me I was a sinner and—and that I'm going to hell. I-I think they're going to send me to conversion therapy, and they made me pray almost 100 times last night." 

It came out fast, barley enough for George to stutter a lot through it.

"I don't know how to take this," Clay says with honesty, "I mean, they aren't true Christians, you know, like what you said. They don't deserve a son like you if they can't accept you for who you love."

George said nothing, continuing to hug Clay, "The worst part is that they're going to tell your parents."

Clay's heart stops, acid rushes into his stomach again, "Wait—what? Really?" 

"Yeah, they were going to do it today. Clay, I'm so sorry I couldn't tell you sooner. They took my phone away."

Clay shakes his head, tears running down his face too now, he rubs George's back to give the both of them comfort.

"Can i kiss you?" George asks, looking up at Clay with something soft in his eyes, "I want to kiss you one more time before they stop letting us be friends."

Clay nods, letting George reach his head up and kiss him softly on the lips, lingering a bit to savor it.

“I love you,” George says.

“I love you too,” He responds. 

Clay still felt the acid bubble in his as George walked out. 

...

“Clay,” His mother calls when they get in the house, “me and your father need to talk to you.”

He feels like he’s going to be sick.

“Yes?”

He sits on the couch with his parents beside him. His mom places a hand on her son’s knee.

“Are you gay?” 

God said not to lie.

“Yes.”

Both of his parents sigh, disappointment coming out of their mouths. Something burns in Clay’s stomach.

“I know what you did with George,” His mother confesses, “I love you but that is against the Bible, Clay.”

“I’m sorry! I can’t control how I feel and G-“

“You can. That was your choice, Clay. You chose to be a homosexual,” His dad says, “You can’t be friends with George anymore. I don’t want you seeing him after church or school either.”

Clay feels a tear running down his face, burning and wetting his face, “I promise I won’t do anything with him! Please! I’m the only friend he has and I don’t have anyone but Nick! Please!”

They still shake their heads, regardless of his cries and begs.

“Please,” He says one last time, “this isn’t fair!”

“Your sins have consequences,” His mom states, “This is just the beginning. I’m doing what is best, if you keep doing this, son, you know you won’t be going to heaven.”

He feels anger start to rattle inside his veins, “I won’t go to hell. This is so stupid!”

They don’t speak.

“Please can you at least stop his parents from sending him to conversion therapy! They do awful things that don’t even help them. He won’t be able to take that, not without anyone to support him,” Clay pleads, looking them in the eye in case that would get him any farther into convincing them.

“He has what’s coming.”

They make him block George’s contact. 

...

It has been a month since he’s said anything to George, only stealing glances and giving comforting gestures to know that they still love each other.

They talk today, after Clay pulls George into the bathroom.

“George,” Clay whispers, “How are you?”

“I’m,” George starts to cry, “I’m awful. They sent me to conversion therapy and everything they do there is horrible.”

“I know,” Clay says, hugging George to his chest.

There is one butterfly fluttering around, not touching the acid.

“They hurt me, it fucking hurts. They tell me to—“ George sobs, not being able to even finish his sentence. 

Clay’s a little taken back from his cursing. 

“I still love you, Clay. None of it even works.”

“I still love you too. Please hang on for me. I promise once we get 18, I’ll try to get us away from here, okay? We’ll do something I promise, but you have to promise me something to, okay?” Clay says, looking him in the eye as he runs his finger through the hair on the back of George’s neck.

“Promise what?”

Clay kisses him. “Promise me you’ll survive everything you’re going to go through for me, okay? Everything?”

George nods, “I-I promise. You have to promise the same.”

Clay smiles, “I promise. I’ll survive for you.”

...

“I love you,” George says to him one Sunday, “Please don’t let anyone tell you differently, even if I’m gone.” 

Clay doesn’t know why, but he sees tears in George’s eyes. 

...

Clay misses George. It had been two months since their last interaction. They had been caught together and Clay’s mom moved churches.

Nick tries to keep Clay hanging on, but he can see that Clay feels empty without George.

He has to keep promise too, though. 

“You haven’t been getting sleep, have you?” Nick asks one day. Clay is unaware of what day it was.

Clay, with bags under his eyes, blinks, “No.”

“I’m sorry about George, but you need to sleep. I know he means a lot to you, but he would want you to be okay,” Nick says, expression showing he truly cared, “And God doesn’t give a fuck—excuse my language— if you’re gay or not. You aren’t going to hell for loving George.”

“Heaven is with him,” Clay says, no matter how cringey it sounds.

They both go silent for a moment. 

“I don’t know where God sends me, but if it’s not with you and him, I don’t care,” Clay confesses. 

He knows it doesn’t sound very God-loving.

...

Two months later, Clay’s acid becomes too much. 

George doesn’t keep the promise. He didn’t survive for Clay. 

George is dead.

He killed himself.

He has questions. A lot of them. 

Why did he do it? He wonders if the conversion therapy was too much, or the fact he had no one to support him or help. He had no one to talk to and he probably got overwhelmed.

He didn’t even leave him anything.

Clay let’s the acid escape his mouth, and there is no caterpillars in his belly anymore.

Clay screams, he yells, he prays. 

“You said you’d keep a promise,” Clay yells, voice echoing in the bathroom walls, “You broke our promise.”

Clay feels like his heart was ripped out. He wanted to take revenge on George’s parents. He fully blamed them.

Not really, though.

He fully blamed himself. Completely blamed himself. 

He shouldn’t have been so reckless, so impulsive. He hates the fact that it was a kiss that lead to George’s death.

He remembers their last interaction, the last “I love you.” It was obviously a goodbye, and Clay wants to tear his hair out, one strand at a time. 

He wants to end his own life, but he still owes one thing to George. 

He needs to keep his promise.

...

Clay has to beg his family to go to the funeral.

“Please,” Poison spits out of his mouth, “It’s not like he’s alive for us to do anything. He was my friend. You’ll be disgusting people and horrible parents. If you don’t let me see him one more time, I’ll tell the whole church you didn’t let your son see his friend.”

“He doesn’t love you that way, he’ll be watching from hell seeing you lead yourself his way,” His mother says.

He kicks the table, “If that is where he is then I’m fine leading myself to it. You’re probably going there too, by your logic!”

He leaves the house, even if he hears yells behind himself.

...

He shows up at the funeral with tears running down his face, his parents and Nick behind him. Nick lays a hand on his shoulder.

Acid leaks to the floor from his body, it feels like. He wants to let it out again, for real. He hates that he can feel it bubbling everywhere.

His heart isn’t even near rebuildable, and the acid also burns that with his stomach. 

He has lilacs clutched in his hand, and he placed them in the casket as he sobs.

George’s parents say they loved him, Clay tells them otherwise, getting gasps from everyone and a smack on the arm from his mother. 

After everyone leaves, he walks to George. 

“I love you, still,” He says, “I promise to keep our promises, even if you didn’t.”

“I got you these because you said they still were your favorite,” Clay cries, “I want to kiss you again.”

Clay lays his head in his crossed arms on the casket, letting everything out.

He feels like hell. 

...

Clay leaves town the next year, lilacs and a Bible in the seat beside him. 

He cries, gripping the steering wheel tight, feeling the few caterpillars that came from the recovery burn a bit. 

“I promised, and I kept it,” He says out loud, “I still love you, too.”

**Author's Note:**

> Did I make you hurt?


End file.
